The Power of a Single Act
by Fish01
Summary: What if Neville was detained when the Death Eater was trying to strangle Harry in the Department of Mysteries? The effect of one simple action could dramatically alter the course of the future... But for better or worse?
1. Mayhem at the Ministry

**C****hapter 1: Mayhem at the Ministry**

Heart pounding madly, Sirius hurtled through the corridors of the Department of Mysteries; Kingsley, Moody, Remus and Tonks were close behind him. He wrenched open the door, causing it to hit the adjacent wall with a crash that echoed around the room. Glancing around to gain his bearings, Sirius immediately caught sight of the main focus of his concern: Harry.

His godson was standing on a dais in front of an archway, surrounded by Death Eaters. In his outstretched hand was –

"Oh no," Sirius muttered as he jumped from step to step toward the sunken floor.

He heard the voices of Tonks and Remus firing spells as he let loose several of his own. To his intense relief, he saw Harry throw himself off the dais and away from the fight. Encouraged now his godson was out of immediate danger, Sirius leapt in front of a Death Eater and engaged him in combat. In his peripheral vision, he was aware of his companions doing the same.

"Stupefy!"

"Petrificus totalus!"

"Impedimenta!"

"Crucio!"

"Stupefy!"

As he dodged the Unforgivable, Sirius heard the satisfying sound of the Death Eater's unconscious body hitting the floor.

"Harry!"

Sirius spun around at a boy's panicked cry. Neville was fighting against the tight grip of a Death Eater; however, as Sirius followed his gaze he saw there was another reason for Neville's shout. Some ten feet away, a second Death Eater had Harry by the throat, holding the lightweight boy so his feet barely scraped the floor. Even as he raced toward the two figures, past duelling witches and wizards, dodging stray curses, Sirius could see his godson's struggles weakening. Harry suddenly went limp in his assailant's grip; the prophecy fell from his hand and smashed. A smoky opaline figure rose into the air, her voice lost amongst the crashes and screams and yells resonating around the room. The ghostly figure grew still as she finished reciting the prophecy and gradually faded into nothingness.

To his horror, no less than three spells hit Harry's unconscious body in quick succession. Without pausing in his mad dash, Sirius glanced in the direction they had come from. He caught sight of Bellatrix, his estranged cousin, standing with her wand pointing at Harry, her lips already forming the beginning of a fourth spell. Before he could retaliate, Tonks leapt forward to distract her vile aunt; Remus was running to Tonks' aid, having just felled another opponent himself. Sirius turned back to the Death Eater holding Harry; the masked man tossed the boy roughly aside, causing a murderous gleam to appear in Sirius' Azkaban-haunted eyes.

"Cru – "

"STUPEFY!"

The Death Eater didn't have time to finish the curse before he was hit with a Stunning Spell so powerful it knocked him three metres backward. Sirius aimed a hurried combination of hexes toward Neville's captor while he sprinted the last few steps to the motionless form of his godson.

Screams and explosions reverberated around the cavernous room; Sirius was oblivious to the chaos as he fell to his knees at Harry's side, his shaking hands already feeling for a pulse. After a few seemingly interminable moments he felt it: a feeble and slightly erratic pulse.

"Harry… Harry! Can you hear me?" he said, shaking the boys' shoulders gently. Numerous small cuts and grazes on his face stood out in stark comparison with his pale complexion, his dark hair only emphasising his pallor.

"Id he alrighd?"

Glancing up briefly, Sirius saw Neville crawling toward him, a hand to his face to staunch the flow of blood from his battered nose.

"I… I don't know," the worried man answered helplessly.

Oblivious to the beam of green light that hit the ground barely inches away, Sirius began checking Harry for any injuries that he was capable of healing.

"Sirius!"

Remus was running toward them; the battle seemed to be over. At some stage during the fight, Dumbledore had arrived and was now standing with Moody as they secured the Death Eaters. On the other side of the room Kingsley was helping Tonks to her feet; it was unclear whether she had been knocked over in the battle or had just tripped.

"Sirius, what happened?" Remus demanded anxiously as he took in the sight of Harry lying unnaturally still on the ground.

"A Death Eater tried to s-strangle him. Then he was h-hit with a number of spells." Sirius whispered haltingly. "Bellatrix – she – I'm not sure what curses she used… they all hit him… his pulse is weak and he looks so pale…"

Remus put a hand on his friend's shoulder. "I'll get Tonks, she knows a decent amount about healing." He jogged across the room to the young Auror; Sirius saw him gesture toward them as he spoke with her. Returning with Tonks in tow, Remus turned to Neville, "Neville, I need you to show me where the others are. There's nothing you can do for Harry. Tonks knows what she's doing."

"Okay." Neville replied. With one last worried look at his unconscious friend, he stood up and led Remus toward the room where he had left his other companions.

Sirius waited impatiently while Tonks examined Harry, her brow crinkled in concentration as she muttered a few spells.

"Nymphadora?"

It was a mark of how serious the situation was that Tonks barely reacted to Dumbledore's use of her despised first name.

"He needs to get to the hospital wing, Professor," Tonks said without looking up.

Dumbledore nodded sagely. He reached into his robes and pulled out a simple quill. Pointing his wand at it he muttered, "Portus."

The quill glowed blue before assuming its normal colour.

"Sirius, take this Portkey. Please inform Madam Pomfrey that she can expect to receive more patients within the next half hour." Dumbledore said as he held out the quill.

Sirius eased one arm under Harry's shoulders and pulled him to lean against his chest. With his free hand he reached out to grab the Portkey. He immediately felt the uncomfortable sensation of a hook being jerked around his midriff; the partially destroyed room, Tonks and Dumbledore vanished in a whirlwind of colour and sound…


	2. Return to Hogwarts

**Chapter 2: Return to Hogwarts**

Sirius staggered slightly when his feet hit the ground. The pungent smell of disinfectant assailed his nostrils as he dropped the quill and picked up his still unmoving godson.

"Poppy!" He yelled as he carried Harry toward the closest vacant bed. "Poppy!"

"I'm coming, I'm coming." Madam Pomfrey muttered as she came out of her office sounding rather inconvenienced. She stopped short as her eyes fell on Harry. "Lie him down on the bed Mr. Black."

"What do you think I'm – never mind." Sirius cut himself off as the matron began waving her wand over Harry in a series of complicated patterns; she summoned various potions, which she poured into his unresisting mouth, massaging his throat to encourage him to swallow. When she finally stepped back from the bed, Harry's robes had been transfigured into pajamas and the shallow cuts and abrasions were gone from his still-pale face.

"Why is he still unconscious?" Sirius asked a little brusquely.

The matron sent him a sharp glare. "I'm not a miracle worker, Mr. Black. He was hit with several powerful spells that I'm not familiar with. He seems to be in a type of coma."

He forced himself to take a deep breath as he perched himself on the straight-backed wooden chair beside the bed. He suddenly remembered Dumbledore's message. "Albus says to expect more patients; they should be arriving soon."

"More?" Poppy repeated faintly. "What on earth happened?"

As he opened his mouth to explain, Dumbledore, Remus and Tonks suddenly materialized in the room clinging to a scrap of parchment. Surrounding them in various states of ill health were Harry's friends. Ginny's face was pinched in pain and she was leaning heavily against Tonks. Neville's face was swollen almost to the point of being unrecognizable. The other two adults were holding up Ron and Hermione, the latter still unconscious. Only Luna seemed unaffected, having been revived by Remus several minutes earlier. She now stood peering around the room in interest as if she hoped to spot a Crumple-Horned Snorkack sunbathing by the large windows.

"Oh, dear. Get them in bed." The matron ordered, seemingly not noticing that those well enough to stand – with the exception of Luna – were already doing just this.

She bustled around the room, performing diagnosis spells and summoning vials of nasty-smelling liquids. She soon had the more serious injuries under control and moved on to mend Ginny's ankle and Neville's nose, muttering all the while about foolish schoolchildren who couldn't say out of trouble.

* * *

_The man was pressing so tightly on Harry's windpipe that he could not breathe. Through watering eyes he saw Sirius dueling with a Death Eater some ten feet away; Kingsley was fighting two at once; Tonks, still halfway up the tiered seats, was firing spells down at Bellatrix - nobody seemed to realize that Harry was dying… _

_He turned his wand backwards towards the man's side, but had no breath to utter an incantation, and the man's free hand was groping towards the hand in which Harry was grasping the prophecy -_

_"AARGH!"_

_Neville had come lunging out of nowhere; unable to articulate a spell, he had jabbed Hermione's wand hard into the eyehole of the Death Eaters mask. The man relinquished Harry at once with a howl of pain. Harry whirled around to face him and gasped: "STUPEFY!" The Death Eater keeled over backwards and his mask slipped off: it was Macnair, Buckbeak's would-be killer, one of his eyes now swollen and bloodshot._

_"Thanks!" Harry said to Neville, pulling him aside as Sirius and his Death Eater lurched past, dueling so fiercely that their wands were blurs; then Harry's foot made contact with something round and hard and he slipped. For a moment he thought he had dropped the prophecy, but then he saw Moody's magical eye spinning away across the floor. Its owner was lying on his side, bleeding from the head, and his attacker was now bearing down upon Harry and Neville: Dolohov, his long pale face twisted with glee._

_"Tarantallegra!" he shouted, his wand pointing at Neville, whose legs went immediately into a kind of frenzied tap-dance, unbalancing him and causing him to fall to the floor again. "Now, Potter -"_

_He made the same slashing movement with his wand that he had used on Hermione just as Harry yelled, "Protego!" Harry felt something streak across his face like a blunt knife; the force of it knocked him sideways and he fell over Neville's jerking legs, but the Shield Charm had stopped the worst of the spell._

_Dolohov raised his wand again. "Accio proph—"_

_Sirius had hurtled out of nowhere, rammed Dolohov with his shoulder and sent him flying out of the way. The prophecy had again flown to the tips of Harry's fingers but he had managed to cling on to it. Now Sirius and Dolohov were dueling, their wands flashing like swords, sparks flying from their wand-tips – Dolohov drew back his wand to make the same slashing movement he had used on Harry and Hermione. Springing up, Harry yelled, "Petrificus Totalus!" Once again, Dolohov's arms and legs snapped together and he keeled over backwards, landing with a crash on his back._

_"Nice one!" shouted Sirius, forcing Harry's head down as a pair of Stunning Spells flew towards them. "Now I want you to get out of-" They both ducked again; a jet of green light had narrowly missed Sirius. Across the room Harry saw Tonks fall from halfway up the stone steps, her limp form toppling from stone seat to stone seat and Bellatrix, triumphant, running back towards the fray._

_"Harry, take the prophecy, grab Neville and run!" Sirius yelled, dashing to meet Bellatrix. Harry did not see what happened next: Kingsley swayed across his field of vision, battling with the pockmarked and no longer masked Rookwood; another jet of green light flew over Harry's head as he launched himself towards Neville -_

_"Can you stand?" he bellowed in Neville's ear, as Neville's legs jerked and twitched uncontrollably. "Put your arm round my neck -"_

_Neville did so - Harry heaved — Neville's legs were still flying in every direction, they would not support him, and then, out of nowhere, a man lunged at them: both fell backwards, Neville's legs waving wildly like an overturned beetle's, Harry with his left arm held up in the air to try to save the small glass ball from being smashed._

_"The prophecy, give me the prophecy, Potter!" snarled Lucius Malfoy's voice in his ear, and Harry felt the tip of Malfoy's wand pressing hard between his ribs._

_""No - get - off - me… Neville - catch it!"_

_Harry flung the prophecy across the floor, Neville spun himself around on his back and scooped the ball to his chest. Malfoy pointed the wand instead at Neville, but Harry jabbed his own wand back over his shoulder and yelled, "Impedimenta!"_

_Malfoy was blasted off his back. As Harry scrambled up again he looked around and saw Malfoy smash into the dais on which Sirius and Bellatrix were now dueling. Malfoy aimed his wand at Harry and Neville again, but before he could draw breath to strike, Lupin had jumped between them._

_"Harry, round up the others and GO!"_

_Harry seized Neville by the shoulder of his robes and lifted him bodily on to the first tier of stone steps; Neville's legs twitched and jerked and would not support his weight; Harry heaved again with all the strength he possessed and they climbed another step - A spell hit the stone bench at Harry's heel; it crumbled away and he fell back to the step below. Neville sank to the ground, his legs still jerking and thrashing, and he thrust the prophecy into his pocket._

_"Come on!" said Harry desperately, hauling at Neville's robes. "Just try and push with your legs" He gave another stupendous heave and Neville's robes tore all along the left seam - the small spun-glass ball dropped from his pocket and, before either of them could catch it, one of Neville's floundering feet kicked it: it flew some ten feet to their right and smashed on the step beneath them. As both of them stared at the place where it had broken, appalled at what had happened, a pearly-white figure with hugely magnified eyes rose into the air, unnoticed by any but them. Harry could see its mouth moving, but in all the crashes and screams and yells surrounding them, not one word of the prophecy could he hear. The figure stopped speaking and dissolved into nothingness._

_"Harry, I'b sorry!" cried Neville, his face anguished as his legs continued to flounder. "I'b so sorry, Harry, I didn'd bean do -"_

_"It doesn't matter!" Harry shouted. "Just try and stand, let's get out of -"_

_"Dubbledore!" said Neville, his sweaty face suddenly transported, staring over Harry's shoulder._

_"What?"_

_"DUBBLEDORE!"_


	3. Dreaming of Death

**Chapter 3: Dreaming of Death**

_Harry turned to look where Neville was staring. Directly above them, framed in the doorway from the Brain Room, stood Albus Dumbledore, his wand aloft, his face white and furious. Harry felt a kind of electric charge surge through every particle of his body - they were saved. Dumbledore sped down the steps past Neville and Harry, who had no more thoughts of leaving. Dumbledore was already at the foot of the steps when the Death Eaters nearest realized he was there and yelled to the others. One of the Death Eaters ran for it, scrabbling like a monkey up the stone steps opposite. Dumbledore's spell pulled him back as easily and effortlessly as though he had hooked him with an invisible line._

_Only one pair was still battling, apparently unaware of the new arrival. Harry saw Sirius duck Bellatrix's jet of red light: he was laughing at her._

_"Come on, you can do better than that!" he yelled, his voice echoing around the cavernous room._

_The second jet of light hit him squarely on the chest. The laughter had not quite died from his face, but his eyes widened in shock. Harry released Neville, though he was unaware of doing so. He was jumping down the steps again, pulling out his wand, as Dumbledore, too, turned towards the dais._

_It seemed to take Sirius an age to fall: his body curved in a graceful arc as he sank backwards through the ragged veil hanging from the arch. Harry saw the look of mingled fear and surprise on his godfather's wasted, once-handsome face as he fell through the ancient doorway and disappeared behind the veil, which fluttered for a moment as though in a high wind, then fell back into place. Harry heard Bellatrix Lestrange's triumphant scream, but knew it meant nothing - Sirius had only just fallen through the archway, he would reappear from the other side any second…_

_But Sirius did not reappear._

_"SIRIUS!" Harry yelled. "SIRIUS!"_

_He had reached the floor, his breath coming in searing gasps. Sirius must be just behind the curtain, he, Harry, would pull him back out… But as he reached the ground and sprinted towards the dais, Lupin grabbed Harry around the chest, holding him back._

_"There's nothing you can do, Harry -"_

_"Get him, save him, he's only just gone through!"_

_"- it's too late, Harry."_

_"We can still reach him -" Harry struggled hard and viciously, but Lupin would not let go…_

_"There's nothing you can do, Harry… nothing… he's gone."_

* * *

Sirius remained motionless in the chair beside his godson's bed, watching the weak rise and fall of his chest. Harry's breathing suddenly quickened and he began to mutter unintelligible phrases.

"Poppy!" He called uneasily.

The matron was his side in a moment. Wordlessly, she took in Harry's sweaty face and delirious ramblings.

"No… NO!" The boy moaned, gasping for breath as if he had run a mile. "Sirius! SIRIUS!"

His godfather leapt out of the chair to grasp Harry's hand. "Harry, it's okay. I'm right here."

Harry began to thrash violently on the bed as if fighting some unknown assailant. "Get him, save him!" he cried out in a desperate voice. Most of his words were lost as he struggled for breath. "…only just gone through… still reach him!"

Sirius lifted his free hand to push Harry's sweaty fringe out his eyes. "Harry, wake up." He pleaded, scared for his godson. For the first time, he noticed the other people in the room. Dumbledore was standing beside Sirius gazing at Harry and appeared to be deep in thought. "What's wrong with him?" Sirius asked in distress as his godson gave another anguished cry.

"SIRIUS!"

Dumbledore looked at him grimly. "I have a theory."

The heavy manner in which he said those four words filled Sirius with dread.

* * *

_"He hasn't gone!" Harry yelled._

_He did not believe it; he would not believe it; still he fought Lupin with every bit of strength he had. Lupin did not understand; people hid behind that curtain; Harry had heard them whispering the first time he had entered the room. Sirius was hiding, simply lurking out of sight._

_"SIRIUS!" he bellowed. "SIRIUS!"_

_"He can't come back, Harry," said Lupin, his voice breaking as he struggled to contain Harry. "He can't come back, because he's d-"_

_"HE - IS - NOT - DEAD!" roared Harry. "SIRIUS!"_

_There was movement going on around them, pointless bustling, the flashes of more spells. To Harry it was meaningless noise, the deflected curses flying past them did not matter, nothing mattered except that Lupin should stop pretending that Sirius - who was standing feet from them behind that old curtain - was not going to emerge at any moment, shaking back his dark hair and eager to re-enter the battle._

_Lupin dragged Harry away from the dais. Harry, still staring at the archway, was angry at Sirius now for keeping him waiting. But some part of him realized, even as he fought to break free from Lupin, that Sirius had never kept him waiting before… Sirius had risked everything, always, to see Harry, to help him… if Sirius was not reappearing out of that archway when Harry was yelling for him as though his life depended on it, the only possible explanation was that he could not come back… that he really was…_

* * *

Sirius continued to stare at Dumbledore apprehensively, flinching as Harry gave a dry sob. "He hasn't gone!" He wailed miserably.

"Tell me! What did my filthy cousin do to him?" Sirius growled.

Dumbledore gave a weary sigh. "I believe that Voldemort created a spell to help him possess Harry, to weaken his defenses so he could infiltrate his mind. He had Bellatrix perform it so he did not have to enter the ministry himself."

"What sort of spell are we talking about?"

"This is merely a guess – "

"Just tell me!"

"It would seem that Voldemort has planted false images in Harry's mind; much like previous times, these images appear to be reality to Harry. He is trapped in this dreamlike state living a nightmare of Voldemort's own creation. By putting Harry through deep emotional pain in this alternate reality, he hopes to make him react in anger, where he will be able to gain entry into his mind."

Sirius was shocked. "Can… can it be reversed?"

Dumbledore's eyes had lost their characteristic twinkle; he now looked old and tired. Sirius was filled with a sense of foreboding. He had never seen his former headmaster look so grave.

"Not by us," Dumbledore said dejectedly. "Harry has to pull out of it on his own. However, hearing the voices of his family and friends will remind him what he has to come back to; it will give him reason to fight." He patted Sirius on the shoulder. "I'll seal off the hospital wing so you can stay with him uninterrupted." With one last sad look at Harry who was still writhing on the bed, his body shaken by heart-rending sobs, he began to walk toward the door.

Sirius turned his full attention back to Harry; during his conversation with the headmaster, Remus, Tonks, Ginny and Neville had moved to stand by Harry's side.

Ginny reached for Harry's other hand as the boy drew in a shaky breath. "What do you think he's –?"

"SIRIUS!" Harry suddenly cried out, sounding as though his heart would break. "NO! HE – IS – NOT – DEAD!"

"Oh, Harry." Sirius choked out. He looked up at Remus and Tonks. "He must think I'm dead. It's a part of the vision."


	4. Discussions

**Chapter 4: Discussions**

_"There is no shame in what you are feeling, Harry," said Dumbledore's voice. "On the contrary… the fact that you can feel pain like this is your greatest strength."_

_Harry felt the white-hot anger lick his insides, blazing in the terrible emptiness, filling him with the desire to hurt Dumbledore for his calmness and his empty words. "My greatest strength, is it?" said Harry, his voice shaking as he stared out at the Quidditch stadium, no longer seeing it. "You haven't got a clue… you don't know…"_

_"What don't I know?" asked Dumbledore calmly._

_It was too much. Harry turned around, shaking with rage. "I don't want to talk about how I feel, all right?"_

_"Harry, suffering like this proves you are still a man! This pain is part of being human."_

_"THEN - I - DON'T - WANT - TO - BE - HUMAN!" Harry roared, and he seized the delicate silver instrument from the spindlelegged table beside him and flung it across the room; it shattered into a hundred tiny pieces against the wall. _

* * *

It was dusk and the eight small dimly lit wall lamps lining two opposite walls of the hospital wing were the only source of light. Outside the windows, the sky was just distinguishable from the darker mass of trees and ground below it. The silence and stillness stretched on, broken only by sounds of gentle breathing or the soft footsteps of the matron as she methodically checked her patients. The inhabitants, utterly exhausted from the previous nights events, had slipped into the tranquil embrace of sleep – all except two. One locked into the throes of an intense psychological battle, the other completely wrapped up in his worry and intense, almost overwhelming fear of impending loss. It was this person who sat rigidly in a chair beside the bed furthest from the door, moving only to pace up and down the long rectangular room for several minutes before returning to his bedside vigil.

During the third burst of pacing, a voice softly called his name from the bed he'd just passed. Pausing midstep, Sirius turned to see Hermione's silhouette standing out against the stark white bedsheets. "Sirius, is that you?"

"Yes, it's me. Do you need anything?" he whispered back.

"No… I-I just woke up from a nightmare about yesterday... it was horrible… but it made me think about Harry's dream… He must be devastated, thinking that you're…" she trailed off almost apologetically.

"Yeah… maybe…" Sirius murmured. He couldn't help thinking of the twelve years he hadn't been there for Harry, the two years on the run, this past year trapped in Grimmauld Place. He really couldn't imagine Harry missing him much – he hadn't even been there for him most the time! Although the boy did seem quite distressed earlier… but it could be the combination of other events as well... Was it wrong to hope that it was his supposed death that had affected Harry so?

"Sirius?"

With a jolt, he realised he'd been silent for a while. "Hmm?"

"He really does love you," Hermione said earnestly, causing him to marvel at her perceptiveness. "He told me…" she hesitated for a moment, "he told me that he was beginning to think of you as a… as a father…"

Sirius drew a quick intake of breath that sounded like a gunshot in the quietness. It felt as if time had frozen. He could hear Ron's soft snoring. He could hear Harry move restlessly on his bed.

"What?" he breathed.

Hermione took his hand in both of hers. "It's true," she said simply. "He's never known what it's like to have a family who cares about you, the Dursleys were never the supportive type. I admit I wasn't sure about you earlier this year, but now I can see… you care about him… more than I originally thought." She tried to take a deep breath but let out a soft gasp at the pain it caused her healing body. "Will you promise me something? Promise that when you two get your second chance, you'll take it, for you and for Harry. I think you'd do each other a lot of good. It would –"

Her next words were cut off by an anguished cry of immeasurable grief from the next bed. "THEN… DON'T - WANT… HUMAN!"

"Harry?" Sirius was at his godson's side instantly. The boy was tossing and turning, his movements growing more and more violent until, with a wild lurch, he almost fell off the bed.

* * *

_Several of the pictures let out yells of anger and fright, and the portrait of Armando Dippet said, "Really!"_

_"I DON'T CARE!" Harry yelled at them, snatching up a lunascope and throwing it into the fireplace. "I'VE HAD ENOUGH, I'VE SEEN ENOUGH, I WANT OUT, I WANT IT TO END, I DON'T CARE ANY MORE." He seized the table on which the silver instrument had stood and threw that, too. It broke apart on the floor and the legs rolled in different directions._

_"You do care," said Dumbledore. He had not flinched or made a single move to stop Harry demolishing his office. His expression was calm, almost detached. "You care so much you feel as though you will bleed to death with the pain of it."_

_"I - DON'T!" Harry screamed, so loudly that he felt his throat might tear, and for a second he wanted to rush at Dumbledore and break him, too; shatter that calm old face, shake him, hurt him, make him feel some tiny part of the horror inside himself._

_"Oh, yes, you do," said Dumbledore, still more calmly. "You have now lost your mother, your father, and the closest thing to a parent you have ever known. Of course you care."_

* * *

Sirius grabbed Harry around the chest before he could fall. It was a struggle to keep hold of the flailing figure.

"DON'T CARE!"

"Harry? Harry? Calm down, it's okay."

"…HAD ENOUGH… SEEN ENOUGH… WANT OUT… WANT IT TO END… DON'T CARE ANY MORE!"

Those words hit Sirius like a crashing fist, knocking the breath out of him. From behind him, he heard Ron's sharp intake of breath and Hermione's stifled sobs. His grip on Harry slackened and he stood limply, staring at the boy he'd come to care about, now more broken than he'd ever seen him. Sirius sat on the edge of the bed and pulled Harry against his chest.

"I – DON'T!" Harry screamed, so loudly his voice cracked from the strain. Then, suddenly, as if in response to Sirius' embrace, he went quiet, his laboured breathing the only sound audible against the renewed silence.

"That's it, sleep, Harry. You'll be okay, I'm not going anywhere." Sirius whispered.


	5. Realisations

_**Chapter 5: Realisations**_

_"But I didn't," muttered Harry. He said it aloud to try and ease the dead weight of guilt inside him: a confession must surely relieve some of the terrible pressure squeezing his heart. "I didn't bother, I could've stopped myself having those dreams, Hermione kept telling me to do it, if I had he'd never have been able to show me where to go, and - Sirius wouldn't - Sirius wouldn't-"_

* * *

"Sirius… dead…"

"No, no, I'm not dead, Harry. I'm fine, I'm right here."

"Dead… my fault… all my fault." Harry moaned miserably.

"No, it isn't your fault."

A week had passed since the Ministry fiasco and Harry was showing no sign of awakening. Each day he would alternate between long periods of unnatural stillness and sudden bursts of grief-filled yells that cut to the heart of anyone witnessing them. Between these two extremes, there were also the hollow-sounding murmurs, devoid of hope or joy, much like those Sirius was now hearing.

"Should have… should have learned Occlumency… wouldn't be dead…"

"Calm down, Harry. It's okay, I just need you to wake up… then you'll see I'm fine."

"Don't want… alone again… please, no."

"I'm here, you'll never have to be alone again." Sirius murmured softly. He wasn't sure how effective his words were, but kept up the gentle assurances regardless, if there was the tiniest chance it would help Harry he'd gladly do it for as long as it took.

"How is he?"

Looking up, Sirius wasn't surprised to see Molly Weasley standing at the foot of the bed, eyes fixated on Harry. Only Ron and Hermione had visited more often than her, dropping by at least five times a day for hours at a time. Sirius himself could hardly count as a visitor, having as good as moved in to the Hospital Wing.

"I don't know," Sirius said wearily, "I'd hoped that he was improving… because he hadn't been thrashing around and yelling… but Madam Pomfrey says his reflexes have dulled considerably… she thinks that he has completely exhausted himself and can't manage the violent outbursts any longer.

"No… no! Not Sirius! Please, not Sirius!" Harry pleaded desperately as he weakly struggled against his godfather's arms, "Can't be dead… no!" A single tear slipped down his cheek.

Wiping it away with his sleeve, Sirius tightened his grip and rubbed Harry's upper arm comfortingly. "It's okay, Harry. I'm here. You need to wake up." His voice was shaking with suppressed emotion.

During several minutes of silence, Molly watched the interaction with tearful eyes. "I was wrong about you," she suddenly spoke up. "You _are_ what's best for Harry."

Sparing her a glance, Sirius was shocked to see acceptance and - was that a hint of admiration – in her eyes.

"Arthur and I… we've known Harry for five years and not once has he come to us for help or comfort. You've been good for him… he trusts you completely and, judging from his obvious distress this past week, cares about you greatly. I'm sorry it took me so long to see. In the future, I won't be so quick to question how you decide to raise him."

"Thank you." Sirius said sincerely. "And thank you for looking out for him when I couldn't."

Molly gave him a small smile. "We were glad to do it, he's a wonderful child, so caring... but always so quick to risk his life to save others... I just wish that he didn't have to endure so much pain, so much hardship…"

"Don't we all."

"Sirius." said Harry weakly, moving around restlessly.

Sirius heaved a great sigh. "Why do I have the feeling this is only the beginning?"

"He'll get through it; think of what he's lived through so far."

Grimacing, Sirius replied, "I'd rather not, I'm liable to have a heart attack – and I'm convinced I don't even know half of it!"

There was a moment's pause, then, "I'm taking Ron, Hermione and Ginny home, it'll do them good to be somewhere else for a while. I'll bring them in for visits every couple of days."

Sirius nodded, "Would you ask Ron and Hermione to keep Neville and Luna updated? I'm sure they'd appreciate it."

Molly gave him a motherly pat on the hand. "Of course. You look after yourself, you hear? You won't do Harry any good if you don't eat and sleep properly," she finished, sounding a bit stern.

"I'll keep that in mind," he replied with a wry smile as he watched her leave. Turning back to Harry he whispered, "You can do it, Harry. I know you can. Just keep fighting, I'll be here when you wake up."

* * *

"_Professor Snape requested that Sirius remain behind, as he needed somebody to remain at Headquarters to tell me what had happened, for I was due there at any moment. In the meantime Professor Snape intended to search the Forest for you. But_ _Sirius did not wish to remain behind while the others went to search for you. He delegated to Kreacher the task of telling me what had happened. And so it was that when I arrived in Grimmauld Place shortly after they had all left for the Ministry, it was the elf who told me - laughing fit to burst - where Sirius had gone._

_"He was laughing?" said Harry in a hollow voice._

_"Oh, yes," said Dumbledore. "You see, Kreacher was not able to betray us totally. He is not Secret Keeper for the Order, he could not give the Malfoys our whereabouts, or tell them any of the Order's confidential plans that he had been forbidden to reveal. He was bound by the enchantments of his kind, which is to say that he could not disobey a direct order from his master, Sirius. But_ _he gave Narcissa information of the sort that is very valuable to Voldemort, yet must have seemed much too trivial for Sirius to think of banning him from repeating it."_

_"Like what?" said Harry dully._

_"Like the fact that the person Sirius cared most about in the world was you," said Dumbledore quietly. "Like the fact that you were coming to regard Sirius as a mixture of father and brother. Voldemort knew already, of course, that Sirius was in the Order, and that you knew where he was - but Kreacher's information made him realize that the one person for whom you would go to any lengths to rescue was Sirius Black."_


	6. Hazy Memories

_**Chapter 6: Hazy Memories**_

_Harry's lips were cold and numb. _The headmaster's recent words were reverberating in his mind_: 'Sirius did not wish to remain behind while the others went to search for you... Like the fact that the person Sirius cared most about in the world was you. Like the fact that you were coming to regard Sirius as a mixture of father and brother.' _

As Harry thought about these words, he was immersed in memories of Sirius; he was gone from Dumbledore's office, images flickering through his mind in quick succession.

* * *

Seeing Sirius for the first time as a grim-like dog in Magnolia Crescent…

_"Mr. Padfoot would like to register his astonishment that an idiot like that ever became a professor."_

"_The caption said the boy would be going back to Hogwarts… to where Harry was…"_

"_You fly as well as your father did, Harry…"_

_"I'll understand, of course, if you want to stay with your aunt and uncle but… well… think about it. Once my name's cleared… if you wanted a… a different home…"_

Sirius' features lighting up with a huge smile when Harry had accepted his invitation to live with him.

Defending Sirius from the Dementors… helping him escape on Buckbeak.

_"We'll see each other again. You are — truly your father's son, Harry…"_

Writing to Sirius when he wanted advice from a parent figure after his dream about Riddle House.

Pouring out his troubles to Sirius just before the First Task of the Triwizard Tournament.

Visiting Sirius at the Hogsmeade caves with Ron and Hermione.

Sirius, pale and shaking with worry over Harry, waiting for him in Dumbledore's office.

Sirius gripping his shoulder in silent support as Harry recounted the terrible events of the Third Task, defending him in Dumbledore's office and again later in the hospital wing.

Watching Sirius gambol around in his Animagus form on the way to Kings Cross Station.

Sirius belting out 'God Rest Ye Merry Hippogriffs' at the top of his lungs.

Sirius listening as he recounted his vision when Arthur Weasley was attacked_._

The images continued to flash across his mind bringing with them the feelings he had felt during each; as Harry's heart filled with emotion, he felt as if he were rising out of marshy depths, freed from the clutches of a watery grave._  
_

* * *

Through a haze of pain and fatigue, Harry became aware of voices. They sounded familiar, but he couldn't quite place them; he only knew that they were important to him.

"…you've got to wake up mate. Hermione has me reading the entire library – I swear I'll die of boredom if she keeps it up… you don't want that on your conscience."

"Oh, honestly Ronald! How can you go on about trivialities like that when Harry's so sick? And three books are not the entire library!" The second voice sounded as if she had a bad head cold.

"Sirius said to act naturally when we talk to him, remind him of the good times we've had."

"It doesn't mean you need to try make him feel sorry for you!"

Footsteps announced the arrival of others. "Arguing again guys?"

"We weren't arguing, Ginny. What are you doing here?" The first voice said rather rudely.

"Watch it Ron, don't make her mad. I just witnessed Ginny's famous Bat-Boogey Hex."

Someone forced a laugh. "What did you do, Neville?"

"Oh it wasn't me; it was Malfoy. He was telling everyone that Harry was on his deathbed and that he always knew the Dark Lord would triumph and all that rot."

"How come he isn't here begging Madam Pomfrey to reverse the spell?"

Ginny and Neville burst out laughing. "He's too ashamed to show his face." Neville choked out. "It was a really powerful Hex. I've never seen anything like it! Luckily, Colin was nearby; I promised to get him Harry's autograph if he took a couple dozen pictures."

Someone shifted uneasily. "Harry won't like that; you know how he despises his fame."

"Hermione, trust me. For a photo like that, Harry would be willing to start his own fan club."

* * *

The next thing he knew, the voices were gone, replaced by the sound of a woman's hysterical sobbing and a man's soothing murmur.

"Take it easy, Molly."

"They – they d-didn't even c-care when they h-heard!"

A third voice joined the others. "Who didn't care?"

"Albus told us he went to inform the Dursley's of Harry's condition. They ordered him out of the house, saying they didn't care if 'their freak nephew' died –"

A loud crash sounded through the room as someone leapt to their feet, knocking over a chair. "WHAT?" A man bellowed furiously.

Harry tensed as he heard the voice he thought he'd never hear again. _What was going on? Sirius is dead…isn't he? _ His small movement went unnoticed by his visitors.

"Calm down, Sirius. Let Arthur continue." A slightly hoarse male voice said gently.

"They said that they were safer without Harry intruding on their perfect family."

Someone snorted.

"That wasn't the worst of it. According to Albus, Vernon said, and I quote, 'if the brat shows his miserable face back here, I'll make him wish he were never born!' "

A long silence followed these words, broken only by a loud sniff from Mrs. Weasley.

"Y-you don't think they've hurt him physically?" A soft voice asked brokenly.

Sirius? Was it possible?

A man sighed. "I don't know, Sirius. I never noticed anything unusual when I taught him; he's good at keeping things to himself, so I can't be sure. We'll have to ask him when he wakes up."

"He's always rather thin and quiet at the start of the year. You don't think they…"

"He's not going back to them." Someone insisted adamantly. "Regardless of whether they've hurt him or not. I won't allow it! He deserves so much better than them!"

"Dumbledore wants to speak to you in his office, Sirius."

"But Harry –"

"I'll stay with him until you get back."

"Thanks, Remus."

Once again the voices faded as Harry gave into the welcome comfort of the darkness…

* * *

"…absolutely not!" A woman screeched, bringing him to some small degree of wakefulness. "Mr Potter does not need another toilet seat!"

"Yes he does. You confiscated the last one and let's face it, everyone needs one at some point in their life."

"More than a few times in fact."

"Gred makes a valid point."

"Every man and his dog – no offense Sirius, old chap – have given Harry a present."

"What will he think of us –?

"– if we don't get him something –"

"– to express our best wishes –"

"–and spread good cheer?"

"Out!"

"Should we leave his gift just here, then?"

"OUT!"

* * *

Another person was bawling beside him, a man this time judging by the sound of the sobs. He blew his nose noisily, sounding remarkably similar to a ship's horn.

"It's all my ruddy fault! I taught yeh abou' the Thestrals. What would yer parents think of me if they knew? Almost gettin' yeh killed all the time! I don' deserve ter be a teacher!"

"Oh Hagrid, that's ridiculous! You're a great teacher. It was our decision to go to the Ministry, not yours. If we hadn't known about Thestrals we would have found another way. We thought Sirius was being tortured by You-Know-Who! Harry wasn't about to ignore that, and we would never have let him go alone. When he wakes up I know he'll tell you the same thing."

There was a loud sniff. "Yer right, Hermione. He'll pull through, he's a strong kid; just like his parents… yeah, he'll beat him again…"


	7. Something to Fight For

**Chapter 7: Something to Fight For**

"He hasn't called out or moved for several days; he just lies there… so still. Do you suppose that's a good sign?"

"I'd like to think so, I hate seeing him in so much pain, Remus. He really thinks I'm dead… I never thought he'd take it so bad – when he was calling for me –" The speaker stopped and drew in a shaky breath. Again Harry's mind began to race. Sirius was speaking; he was alive! Could it be possibly be true or had his mind cracked just as the Prophet had maintained all year? His thoughts were interrupted by the first voice.

"Harry loves you, Sirius. Anyone can see that. You should have seen his face light up last summer when I told him he would see you again. He looks up to you. I've seen similarities between you. Have you noticed how he's picked up your habit of running a hand through your hair when you're stressed? Or how he tilts his head when he's deep in thought? He never did those things before he met you; James and Lily never did those things. He picked them up from you." There was a brief silence before the voice spoke again. "Harry doesn't trust adults easily; it took me the better part of a year to fully gain his trust. You had it within the space of a couple of hours! Think about it, he asked to live with you if he got expelled. He wrote to you last summer after having that vision – he could have written to Albus or the Weasleys or Hermione or Hagrid, but he turned to you. Then when he thought he had drawn you out of hiding, he tried to play it down to keep you out of danger; tonight he went rushing off to risk his life to try and save yours. You underestimate yourself, Sirius. I know he thinks of you as a parent figure; you're his strength, his security, his mentor, and the closest thing he's got to a father."

"What if he doesn't wake?"

"He will. Hearing you talk right now will help him, I'm sure of it."

A chair scraped against the ground as someone stood. "I'm going to get some tea, I think we both could use it. Keep talking to him, Sirius; remind him what he has to fight for; remind him you are still there for him."

* * *

"Harry, it's Sirius. I need you to fight it! I know you can do it; Merlin, you've already beaten him four times! You've always been strong, stronger than I would have thought possible… Your parents would be so proud of you… and so am I."

Hearing the desperation and love in his godfather's voice was almost too much to bear. Harry struggled to move; he couldn't understand why his body felt so heavy, so tired. At the moment he didn't care if he was dreaming; he just wanted to know the truth so he could sort out his muddled mess of a mind. He finally succeeded in moving a finger, then another. Feeling slowly returned to his fingers; his hands; his arms. Someone was holding his left hand. Harry squeezed the hand experimentally, wanting to communicate with someone, anyone, who could explain what was happening. He didn't think he could take it to raise his hopes only to have them crashing down. _Sirius is dead, _he told himself sternly._ He's gone. Stop trying to fool yourself, you'll only make it hurt more._

He heard a sharp intake of breath, then, "Harry?" The legs of Sirius' chair scraped noisily against the tiled floor as he jumped up. "Harry? Can you hear me? Try to squeeze my hand again."

Excitement flooded Harry, the hope in that well-known voice spurring him to redouble his efforts in spite of his lingering exhaustion. Focusing all his limited strength on that single action, Harry flexed his hand; it came out as a sporadic motion.

"Good, Harry, good!"

He had never heard his godfather sound so excited. Harry felt the mattress move slightly as his godfather perched on the edge. A hand moved through his hair; an oddly comforting gesture, albeit totally foreign. He involuntarily leaned into the touch.

Sirius' voice trembled slightly. "Can you open your eyes for me?"

Moving was a little easier now, but still required more effort than was normal. Slowly, he lifted his leaden eyelids a minuscule amount at a time until he could see his godfather, his face alight with a huge grin that made him look like his younger self in Harry's photo album.

"You did it." Sirius whispered. His hand was still in Harry's hair. "How do you feel?"

Harry swallowed, willing his aching throat to cooperate. "Tired. Sore." He managed to croak out, surprised by how weak his voice sounded.

Sirius gave him a wry smile. "I'm not surprised considering what you went through."

Harry suddenly tensed as he remembered the past events. He stared at Sirius with wide eyes as his breathing began to quicken.

"What's wrong?" Sirius asked in concern as Harry pushed his hand away.

"You – you're dead." He could feel a burning, prickling feeling in the inner corners of his eyes. He blinked rapidly and looked away from the person pretending to be his godfather. "He's gone. He can't come back." Harry whispered miserably, repeating Remus' earlier words after Sirius had fallen through the veil.

"Oh, Harry." Sirius was whispering now as well. "It's really me. What you've been living is a dream, a vision cooked up by Voldemort."

Glancing at him, Harry saw his own unbearable grief mirrored in the man's eyes. On closer inspection, he appeared exhausted. A few days of stubble were evident on his face and his eyes were bloodshot, suggesting he'd had little sleep of late.

Seeing he had Harry's attention, Sirius pressed on. "When that Death Eater had you by the throat, Bellatrix hit you with some spells; spells Voldemort had created to weaken you. So you couldn't fight him when he tried to possess you entirely. He had to get you into a state of emotional devastation."

Sirius raised his hand again, this time to touch Harry's cheek with the back of his hand, as if to reassure himself that his godson was, indeed, safely beside him. Harry stared at the sheets in silence, searching his memories, trying to find proof that the Sirius in front of him was real, not a figment of his own imagination. Harry tilted his head in thought, missing the fond smile Sirius sent him at this action.

"I remember that… the Ministry... the Death Eaters..." He realised suddenly. Now that he was fully awake, he was better able to distinguish between the two realities he had been living. Everything was coming back to him; the Death Eater's cold, black eyes; the flashes of spells; the crashes and screams; the intense pain… then nothing. His head shot up as he realised what being in this reality meant. "You're alive." It was both a question and a statement. He knew it to be true but wanted, needed, additional reassurance.

Sirius seemed to understand. "Yes, I'm alive. I'm not going anywhere." He helped Harry into a sitting position, enveloping him in a comforting hug that was returned wholeheartedly. He felt Harry relax against him, resting his head on Sirius' shoulder.

"I missed you." Harry hated how childish that sounded and the way his voice broke during the simple sentence.

Sirius hugged his godson tighter, and began rubbing his back in small circular motions. "I missed you too, Harry. We're okay now. We're together."

They remained that way for a long time until Harry's still-recovering body caused him to fall asleep. Chuckling, Sirius maneuvered himself so he was in a more comfortable position with Harry's head resting on his chest and his arm still around his godson's shoulders.


	8. Reunion

**Chapter 8: Reunion**

"Sirius… Sirius… SIRIUS!"

Sirius was reluctantly brought to wakefulness, annoyed at whoever was interrupting the first restful sleep he'd had in almost two weeks. "What?" He muttered rather crossly, slowly opening his eyes. Remus was staring at him expectantly.

"What?" Sirius repeated in a softer voice.

His friend gestured to the small boy sleeping peacefully by his side, head still on Sirius' shoulder. Smiling contentedly, Sirius took a while to realise that Remus was still standing motionless, waiting for an answer.

"Well?" Remus pressed.

"Well what, Remus?"

"You know very well 'what'! Did Harry wake up?"

Sirius' joyous smile was answer enough. Settling himself in the vacant chair beside the bed, Remus looked at Harry's peaceful expression, unmarred by the pain and distress that had become typical since the Ministry fiasco. "I take it your reunion went well."

If possible, the grin on Sirius' face grew bigger. "Better than I imagined. You should have seen his face when he realised I was alive."

Remus smiled knowingly. "I told you he cared for you greatly."

"That sounded remarkably close to an 'I told you so', Professor Moony."

"Call it what you will." Remus answered in an indifferent tone, although the effect was somewhat ruined by the light-hearted grin on his face. "Have you told him the news?"

"No, I didn't think of it before and I don't want to wake him up; he seemed pretty wiped. Voldemort really did a number on him." He scowled at the notion of the evil wizard harming his godson. He was pulled from his dark thoughts when he felt Harry stiffen against him.

"No! … No! Not Sirius!" He muttered, his face screwing up in agitation. "NO! SIRIUS!

Sirius shook him gently. "Harry, wake up. It's just a dream." Sirius reminded as he began rubbing his back again.

Harry started, glancing around frantically with panic visible in his bright green eyes. He calmed down when he noticed Sirius beside him, staring at him in concern.

"Are you okay now?"

Leaning back again, Harry nodded wearily; his most recent dream was still painfully fresh in his mind. "I'm sorry." He muttered in embarrassment, annoyed at himself for showing weakness on top of that demonstrated by his lack of energy.

"Don't be, I'm here for you. I understand what you're going through, having spent the last couple of weeks thinking you were going to die any minute. I haven't exactly been at my best lately either. I'm sure Madam Pomfrey will be glad to see the back of me."

Remus chuckled, causing Harry to notice him for the first time. "Sirius never endeared himself to the matron during our school days." He explained. "She still hasn't forgiven him for charming the potions to tap-dance back in third year. He was supposed to drink them, but decided that was a more enjoyable alternative."

Sirius tilted his head. "I don't suppose my record for escaping from the Hospital Wing helped either."

"And your penchant for helping me and James escape when we were in there." Remus reminded jovially.

"Well, you two did spend far too much time in there due to injuries from Quidditch and the Full Moon. It got boring playing pranks alone."

Sirius suddenly realised Harry was frowning. "What's up?"

"Did you say a couple _weeks_?"

"Er… yes. You've been seriously ill. You almost died. It's now the beginning of July." A proud smile appeared on his face. "But you fought him and won!"

"Oh." Harry was rather overwhelmed with this information. Panic once again filled his eyes. "How are the others – Ron, Hermione, Gin–"

Sirius held up a hand to stop his torrent of words. "All fine, although quite worried about you. Neville and Luna are with their families and Hermione's staying with the Weasleys. Molly forced her lot to return to the Burrow once they had been released from the Hospital Wing themselves. She didn't want them moping around by your bedside. Personally I can't see the difference it would make, they're going to mope regardless of their location."

Remus grinned again; he couldn't seem to help himself now Harry was recovering. "They didn't go quietly either. Ron and Ginny have quite the vocabulary. I daresay they taught Sirius a few new words."

Harry laughed along with the two men, finally at ease now he was certain that Sirius and his friends were okay. "What about the Order? Did any of them get hurt?"

"Nothing that couldn't be put right almost immediately." Remus assured him. He suddenly stood up. "Speaking of which, I'd better owl Molly. She made me swear to let her know the minute you awoke."

Sirius smirked. "Better hurry, Moony. I'd hate to be in your shoes when she finds out he had been awake for three hours before she was informed. Nasty temper, that woman."

"She doesn't need to know that piece of information." Remus replied firmly, struggling to hide a smile at his friend's teasing.

* * *

A couple of hours later, Harry was propped up in bed against a mound of pillows; he was still too weak to sit up unaided. Sirius had conjured up a huge assortment of different shapes, sizes and colours, many of which Harry hadn't been aware even existed. Sirius seemed to be quite enjoying himself; however, after he produced a perfectly circular pillow in a sickly peach colour that reminded Harry horribly of Aunt Petunia, he put his foot down.

"No Sirius, I've got enough! Will you please stop fussing?"

"Are you sure you're okay? No fever? Dizziness? Nausea? Pain?"

"Sirius! I'm fine! There's still some pain but Madam Pomfrey said it will fade."

"Didn't she give you potions for that?"

"Yes, but they didn't work – don't look at me like that. I. Am. Fine. Just stop acting like someone's grandmother!"

Sirius' mouth gaped open. "Grandmother?" he repeated indignantly when he regained his voice. Before he could finish his protest, the doors of the hospital wing crashed open.

"Harry!"

He barely had time to steel himself before Hermione had thrown herself at him, her bushy hair obscuring his vision. Awkwardly patting her on the back he struggled to disentangle himself from her death-grip. He glared at Sirius as the man sniggered at his predicament.

"Oh, we were so worried when we heard – everyone said you kept getting worse, that there was nothing anyone could do. Sirius told us about the vision, oh I bet it was awful! It was, wasn't it? But I'm sure you are so glad he's really alive – I tried to get Ron to help me find a cure in the library but Professor Dumbledore said there were no other recorded instances and Mrs. Weasley made us go home once term ended. I couldn't believe it when we finally got Remus' owl saying you'd woken up. Oh Harry!" She said this so fast that his head began to spin.

Seeing that she looked about to cry, he hastily turned to Ron. "Hey, Ron. How are you? Last time I saw you – those brains, I couldn't get them off you –" Harry stopped himself short, realising he was starting to sound like Hermione with her cascade of random phrases.

"I'm fine. " Ron answered nonchalantly. "Madam Pomfrey fixed me up all right in the end. It was you we were worried about. Hermione was in a right state."

"Oh Ron! As if you were much better!" Hermione huffed. "Who was it that had the idiocy to enlist Fred and George to help you escape the Burrow and get to Harry? Needless to say, they were caught by Mrs. Weasley. Given the circumstances they weren't grounded, but it was a near thing."

Harry looked between his two friends in astonishment, taking note of Ron's ears reddening. "You were really that desperate?" He asked incredulously, knowing firsthand the chaos the twins could cause.

"Well, yeah! What if you'd died and we weren't there? We're best mates!" Ron said vehemently.

At loss for words, Harry just sat staring at them with a large grin on his face. "Thanks, guys." He finally managed to say.

"Anytime, mate." Ron answered. He looked nervously at the door. "Um… Mum's waiting to see you, but we managed to convince her to let us go first. Are you up to getting smothered?"

Sirius laughed at the horrified expression on Harry's face.

"Let's get it over with… she can't be much worse than Sirius." Harry replied with a straight face.

Sirius stopped laughing to raise an eyebrow at his godson. Ron and Hermione smirked.

"Shall I let her in before Sirius grounds you for life?" Ron asked.

"Perhaps you'd better." Harry said, wondering about the odd choice of words. _How could Sirius ground him when he, Harry, would spend the entire summer at the Dursley's?_

Unnoticed by Harry, his friends and Sirius exchanged knowing looks at the confused expression on the boy's face. Ron stood up to let his mother in.


	9. The Unexpected

**Chapter 9: The Unexpected **

Bracing himself for another round of tears, Harry smiled cautiously at the Weasley matriarch as she bustled through the doorway, her husband struggling to keep up with her fast pace.

"Oh Harry!" She exclaimed, bursting into tears and engulfing Harry in a tight and rather soggy hug. Over her shoulder he sent Sirius a silent plea to be rescued.

Chuckling in amusement, Sirius placed a hand on Molly's shoulder. "Take it easy Molly, he's still pretty tired and sore."

Mrs. Weasley instantly released Harry. "Oh, I'm sorry dear. Did I hurt you? You should be resting." She sent Sirius a disapproving glare as if it were his fault that Harry was not sleeping at that precise moment.

"It's okay, Mrs. Weasley. I've just had a nap and Madam Pomfrey has just filled me full of disgusting potions for the pain."

It was partially true; he had slept for an hour while waiting for the Weasley's to come. The potions hadn't helped much, but he didn't feel the need to inform Mrs. Weasley of this.

At the mention of the word 'pain' Mrs. Weasley began smoothing his sheets unnecessarily. "You poor boy, you've been through so much." She half-sobbed. "Especially last year with that awful tournament…"

Harry fidgeted with his pajama sleeves uncomfortably. Arthur took this opportunity to take over. "Hello Harry, how are you feeling?" He asked clapping him on the shoulder.

"Much better thanks, " Harry replied, smiling at him gratefully.

"Do you know when you're getting out of here?" Arthur asked, sending a furtive glance toward Sirius.

Harry's face fell and he visibly tensed. Once he was well enough, he would have to return to Privet Drive. He tried not to imagine his uncle's reaction to his survival. A hand gripped his shoulder; Harry flinched instinctively as he saw the sudden movement in his peripheral vision.

"Harry?"

Reluctantly looking up, Harry was surprised to see a hint of excitement mixed with the compassion in Sirius' eyes.

"We'd best be going now." Mrs. Weasley proposed as she looked between Harry and Sirius. "Come on, Ron, Hermione. You can come back to visit tomorrow."

After hasty goodbyes and more crushing hugs from Mrs. Weasley and Hermione, the four left the hospital wing, leaving Harry and Sirius alone.

"Harry? Are you okay?"

"I'm fine." Harry answered mechanically.

Sirius frowned slightly at the obvious lie. "No, you're not. Something is bothering you, something to do with the Dursleys."

Shifting uncomfortably, Harry opened his mouth to give the usual, automatic response. "I'm f –"

"Harry, please don't lie to me. I want to help you; I know something is wrong. I'd like to think you trust me, at least a little."

"I do trust you." Harry said with conviction. "But…" He trailed off uncertainly, biting his lip nervously, looking as if he wished his invisibility cloak were within reach. "I haven't every really talked about it."

"They're horrible to you." Sirius stated; it wasn't a question. Harry looked up quizzically. "Hermione and Ron told me they used to lock you in a cupboard… Don't be mad at them, I forced them to tell me." Taking a deep breath, he soldiered on. "I also have reason to believe… they may have physically harmed you on more than one occasion…" Sirius' heart dropped as Harry looked up quickly – too quickly – with shock and fear evident in his eyes. "They did, didn't they?" He asked softly, barely constraining his outrage at the Dursley's.

"Yes." Harry whispered, his eyes downcast.

"You've nothing to be ashamed of," Sirius told him emphatically. "If they treat you like that, they never deserved you in the first place." Harry still wasn't looking at him. "Harry, please look at me." When he slowly obeyed, Sirius continued. "You won't be going back there, Harry."

The boy looked disbelieving. "I have to, where else would I go?" He sounded thoroughly dejected.

Reaching into his robes, Sirius pulled out a rolled piece of parchment that had an official-looking seal on it. He unrolled it carefully, almost reverently, before handing it to Harry, who glanced at it less than enthusiastically but did a double take as he read the first sentence.

_I, Cornelius Oswald Fudge, Minister for Magic, hereby declare Sirius Orion Black innocent of all charges for which he was convicted on the 1st day of November during the year of 1981._

He collapsed back against his considerable pile of pillows, feeling lightheaded. Finally finding his voice, he looked at his godfather. "You're free? How? When –"

"Whoa, slow down." Sirius ordered as he gave his bark-like laugh. "Yes, I'm free. As for the how and when, Dumbledore managed to get Fudge to look at Moody's, Tonks' and Kingley's memories that showed me fighting _against_ the Death Eaters at the Ministry. Since all three of them are well-respected Aurors, he couldn't dispute the truth when it was staring him plainly in the face… Well actually, he did at first, but Moody threatened him – don't ask me how he got away with it – Tonks swears he confunded him… but I'm free, have been for more than a week!"

Sirius was almost bouncing around at this point. Harry continued to stare at him. "So…" He stopped suddenly. _What if Sirius had changed his mind about having Harry live with him?_

Correctly guessing Harry's thoughts, Sirius ruffled his hair. "Hey, no more thoughts like that. I'm in the process of gaining custody over a certain scruffy-haired teen. I want you to live with me. What do you say?"

Harry's huge grin was answer enough. "Do you have a house?"

"Er… not yet… unless you count Grimmauld Place, which I don't." Sirius grimaced at the thought of the dark, unwelcoming house. "Do you have any thoughts?"

"I don't really mind, but I've always thought it would be nice to live in the country; someplace that has large open spaces; where you can see the sky."

Sirius pondered this idea. "That does sound rather tempting…" A mischievous gleam appeared in his eyes. "We'll have to get a place near Hogwarts; I'll need to be close to keep you out of trouble during school term. Merlin, you're worse than me and your father combined!"


	10. To a New Future

**Chapter 10: To a New Future**

The rest of the week went by in a blur. To Harry's great annoyance he slept most of the time. Madam Pomfrey, however, said this was to be expected after the ordeal he had been through. His frustratingly few wakeful hours were spent talking to Sirius, Remus, Hagrid, Hermione and the Weasleys. Some of the Order members he was more familiar with occasionally dropped by for a quick chat. Once, Harry had awoken from a nap to catch sight of his Transfiguration teacher's back as she hurriedly exited the room. When he related this strange occurrence to his godfather (who had been out house-hunting), Sirius had let out a loud bark-like laugh saying that she was just an old softie at heart. However, this proclamation didn't stop Sirius from cowering in fear when the 'old softie' screamed at him during dinner for jinxing her cloak to flash fluorescent orange whenever she spoke.

At long last, the day arrived when Madam Pomfrey reluctantly pronounced him well enough to go home. Nevertheless, she insisted that he submit to a final examination and a lengthy lecture warning him to keep out of trouble and refrain from overexerting himself. Finally, she drilled Sirius on which potions to give and when to give them, where to purchase more potions if necessary, and what to do if he relapsed (Dumbledore had assured them this was impossible but the matron refused to accept that anyone besides her was capable of caring for her patient). When she started reciting the ingredients for Dreamless Sleep Potion, Sirius managed to convince her that Harry was anxious to have another nap and could she please send any other information by owl. Without waiting for a reply, he threw some Floo powder into the fireplace and shoved Harry through calling, "Willow House!"He hastily grabbed his own pinch of the magical powder and followed, arriving in time to see Harry pick himself up from the floor.

Sirius leant against the wall in exaggerated relief. "We're free!" he gasped. "That woman is a force to be reckoned with! Give me a dragon over her any day!"

Smiling at his godfather's theatrics, Harry took the time to survey his surroundings. They were presently in the living room; several chocolate-coloured couches were positioned against the far wall in a gentle arch, each bedecked with a reasonable number of assorted pillows (no peach this time); it seemed Sirius had gone slightly overboard with the conjuring spell again. In addition to the pillows, he had also obtained three beanbags, seemingly with Harry, Ron and Hermione in mind. Harry was surprised to see a television by the couches; his godfather had never seemed overly interested in Muggle appliances. In fact, Harry distinctly remembered that Sirius hadn't any idea what a play station was when he had written about Dudley breaking one after third year.

The carpet was light tan and looked to be quite soft; Harry had to resist the urge to reach down and feel it. Just right of him was a door to a corridor that led to the rest of the house. To his left there was a large window showing the picturesque view of a wide grassy plain with a river meandering through it. Tearing his eyes away from the tranquil sight, Harry turned to look at the fireplace he had just come through. The flames had died, leaving small traces of ash and kindling in the hearth; atop the mantle were several picture frames displaying various photos. In fact, as he looked around the room again, Harry noticed more photos distributed throughout the room: Harry talking with Ron and Hermione; Harry laughing as the Weasley twins pulled a prank on Sirius; Harry, Ron and Sirius having a pillow fight in the hospital wing; baby Harry being held by his parents as they looked at him adoringly; toddler Harry riding on the back of a familiar black dog as his parents laughed in the background…

Grinning like a loon, Harry turned to his godfather who was waiting anxiously for his reaction to their new home. "It's brilliant, Sirius!" he blurted out earnestly, his eyes shining with excitement. "Can we see the rest of the house?"

"Sure." Sirius started to walk toward the door. He stopped in the doorway, appearing to remember something. "Actually… Madam Pomfrey wanted you to have a nap the minute you arrived…" He laughed at Harry's scandalized expression. "Relax Harry, I was kidding!"

Rolling his eyes, Harry followed Sirius as he walked out of the room and turned down the corridor, pointing out the various rooms. His godfather seemed to be in a hurry to get upstairs; he was almost bouncing on the spot as Harry studied each room in detail, soaking in the welcoming atmosphere that filled the house.

"Come on, if you've seen one laundry you've seen them all. You'll have plenty of time to look around when you're doing our washing." Sirius teased. He seemed a totally different person since he had been freed. Harry supposed being away from Grimmauld Place had helped as well. "Unless you feel the need to examine the soap in the bathroom, we can go upstairs!"

Harry was sorely tempted to pretend to show interest in the soap to make Sirius wait, but his own excitement overrode his desire to retaliate. "I guess I can look at the soap later." He replied seriously as he walked past his godfather toward the stairs. In doing so, he missed the nostalgia on Sirius' face as he inadvertently channeled his father's style of humour.

When Harry reached the landing, he glanced around as he waited for Sirius to take the lead again. There were four doors revealing another bathroom; a guestroom; Sirius' room and Harry's room. The boy beamed as he stepped into his new room; once again his godfather had gone overboard. Gryffindor paraphernalia adorned the off-white walls; a four-poster bed was pushed into a corner sporting a blue bedspread, and at the foot were his broomstick and truck. Opposite the bed was a walk-in wardrobe, the door slightly ajar to reveal an array of clothing items – all new and in his size. A desk was positioned beside a window that opened out onto a balcony overlooking what seemed to be the beginnings of a Quidditch pitch.

Grinning so widely that he was sure his cheeks would split, Harry turned to face his godfather. "Thank you." He said simply, his eyes conveying the depth of his gratitude.

"Is it okay?" For some reason Harry couldn't comprehend, Sirius was nervous.

"Okay?" He asked incredulously. "It's fantastic!"

Sirius relaxed considerably.

"Sirius…"

"What? Oh, no! I knew you wouldn't like the desk, I _told _Remus it was a stupid idea –"

"No, no. The desk is fine, Sirius. I just wanted to say… thanks for all this stuff, it's great… but I would have been happy living in a cave if it meant you were there with me. You're a great godfather Sirius… just… thank you… you know, for being there for me. It's nice not being alone… and having an adult I can trust."

"That's what I'm here for, Harry." Sirius answered fondly ruffling his hair. "Now… enough with the sentimental stuff. I'm keen to try out that Quidditch field. Do you know where I might find a worthy opponent?"


	11. Home

**Chapter 11: Home**

The next morning, Harry awoke as the first rays of sun streamed through the gap in the curtains. Blinking the sleep out of his eyes, he sat up slowly and stared around him, momentarily confused by the unfamiliar room. He smiled as the memories of the past few weeks came back to him. Feeling happier than he had ever thought possible, Harry clambered out of bed, taking the time to stroke Hedwig who had seemingly just returned from hunting. She let out a sleepy hoot as she buried her head under her wing; the dead mouse under her perch evidence of her successful flight.

Harry walked to his cupboard and pulled out a fresh change of clothes. Pausing one last time to gaze out of the window at the peaceful setting, he slipped out of his room and into the bathroom. He showered and pulled on a pair of jeans and a grey t-shirt, grateful that he didn't have to roll up the sleeves five times to find his hands. For the first time in his life, he had Muggle clothing that fit – well, almost fit, Harry amended as he reached for a belt. According to Mrs Weasley and Sirius, he had lost weight during his three-week hospital stay. Harry had been hard pressed to stop them giving him second and third helpings at every meal.

Harry quietly descended the stairs, careful not to wake Sirius in the process. He entered the kitchen and set to work familiarising himself with the whereabouts of the cooking implements. Twenty minutes later, Sirius stumbled in, looking half asleep; however, the delicious aroma of blueberry pancakes seemed to revive him quickly.

"M-m-morning, Harry," he yawned, plopping heavily into a chair.

To Harry's shock the chair let out a disgruntled sound. "Gently please, sir." It creaked moodily.

"Sorry," Sirius answered as if it were normal to converse with a chair over breakfast.

Harry stared apprehensively at the nearest chair and gave it a cautious prod with the handle of the spatula. He leapt back in alarm as it yelled: "Oi, watch it, laddie!"

Sirius noticed his godson's unease. "I take it you haven't met our chairs yet." He chuckled as Harry gaped at him.

"Met the chairs?" Harry repeated faintly.

"Yeah, ever since third year, Moony was always warning me that I'd break a chair with the way I, and I quote, 'plonk down with no consideration for the consequences' – utter nonsense… It's a sad day when a guy can't even sit down without being reprimanded by his one of his best mates… Anyway, he charmed my favourite chair in the common room to speak its mind. It seems he thought he'd continue the tradition with these ones. Odd bloke, Moony, he's always been a bit eccentric…"

Shaking his head, Harry turned back to the frying pan. "They're ready, you hungry for blueberry pancakes?" He switched off the pan and placed the plate of pancakes on the table between the two empty ones, shooting a nervous glance at Sirius. "I could find something else if you don't like them." He made to move toward the fridge but was stopped by a hand on his shoulder that made him turn.

"Harry, they smell excellent," Sirius assured him, 'but you don't need to make breakfast. You're still recovering."

"I don't mind. It's always been one of my jobs, I'm used to it." Harry didn't quite meet his eye after that statement.

Sirius put both hands on Harry's shoulders and steered him toward the table, easing him down gently into a chair while he slowly sat in the one he had just vacated (which gave a huge sigh of relief and said, "Oh, that's better!").

He looked Harry in the eye. "You seem to be brushing off your own health too easily. It makes me think the Dursleys weren't very sympathetic when you were sick. And the fact that you automatically assume I won't like the food suggests that they constantly scorned your efforts. Would that be a safe assumption or am I reading too much into it?"

Harry stared at his godfather for several moments. "Yes," he finally admitted, "they made me cook breakfast every morning. It was never good enough for them; they always found something to complain about. Once when I was eight, Dudley threw a fit because I was taking too long to cook the bacon, he upended the frying pan and my arms got splattered with the oil. Then Aunt Petunia came in and saw the mess and made me clean it up even though I had been burnt."

Sirius frowned. "They made you cook when you were only eight? And didn't even care for your injuries?"

"Yeah, Aunt Petunia started teaching me when I was old enough to start school. I was forced to cook until I received my Hogwarts letter; after that they were scared I'd turn them into bats. It didn't last long though, before second year they found out that I wasn't allowed to do magic in the holidays, so it was back to being treated like a slave. Whenever I dropped a heavy saucepan, I'd get locked up in my– " Harry broke off abruptly before he mentioned his cupboard, realising he was divulging things he never wanted anyone to know about. Sirius didn't push him to continue, but reached out to grip Harry's forearms.

"I'm sorry you had to go through that, Harry." He said somberly. "I can't change what happened, but I'm willing to listen if you feel like talking."

Harry managed a small smile. "Thanks." Searching around for a change of subject, he laid eyes on the pancakes. "They've probably gone cold." He said ruefully.

Accepting the subject change for now, Sirius whipped out his wand and muttered a spell that Harry recognised as a Warming Charm. "Not anymore. Tuck in."

To Harry's delight, Sirius launched into a tale from the Marauders' school days. "… for reasons unknown to all but him, your dad thought levitating a Flobberworm around the Great Hall during dinner would be a good idea. Perhaps it was, but staring glassy-eyed at your mother was not, at least not at that precise moment. It diverted his concentration long enough for the charm to falter... while the Flobberworm was hovering directly above Professor McGongall's plate."

"It didn't –?"

"Sadly, yes… James had detention for a week afterward." Sirius smiled reminiscently. He leant back and stretched in his chair. "I feel like some coffee, would you like some?"

"Sure, but I can – "

"No, I'll do it. Sit." Sirius opened a cupboard and pulled out two mugs. He stared blankly at the coffee maker before shrugging and pulling out his wand. A second later, both mugs were filled with the dark liquid. Setting them on the table, Sirius summoned the milk and sugar, nudging them toward Harry. As he stirred his coffee, Harry noticed the words on his cup read WORLD'S BEST GODSON.

"Don't you think you're going a bit overboard?" Harry asked with an amused grin, gesturing to the words.

Sirius glanced at it. "Nah. Overboard would be the one Moony gave me last summer. Here, take a look."

He turned his mug so Harry could read the words on the side: 'Never trust a dog to watch your food.'

Harry laughed. "Did he choose it because he had firsthand experience of such an incident?"

"Of course not." Sirius answered unconvincingly. "Speaking of Moony, he's coming over tomorrow for a visit. What do you suppose he'd think of lime green hair?"


	12. A New Sense of Normal

**Chapter 12: A New Sense of Normal**

Life at Willow House was as different as possible from life on Privet Drive. Far from being ignored or treated as if he were little more than a slug, Harry's company was actively sought out by Sirius. Over the next week they finished building the Quidditch pitch, watched a bunch of Muggle movies recommended by Hermione, visited the nearby Wizarding village, set fire to two tea towels while attempting a new dinner recipe, and began exploring some of the trails in the woods, managing to get lost twice. Remus visited often, despite Sirius' many attempts to prank him, and even got in a few of his own.

On the eighth morning after his arrival, Harry made his way downstairs to the comical sight of Sirius arguing with the hall mirror while Remus leaned against the wall watching with amusement, obviously having just arrived.

"– is _not_ scraggly." Sirius was insisting firmly.

"It's just a bit uneven, dear," said the mirror in a placating tone.

"It's called rugged. Nothing wrong with that."

"No, no, no, of course not, but your hair is rather long. If you trimmed it you'd look years younger."

Looking disgruntled, Sirius turned away from the mirror, his face lighting up when he saw Harry. "Ah, just the man I want to see." He slung an arm around Harry's shoulders. "We're trying to settle an argument. Bridget over there," – Harry blinked, surprised that a mirror actually had a name – "thinks my hair and beard look scraggly. I need another opinion."

Harry looked between the two men and the mirror, feeling decidedly bemused. From behind Sirius' back, Remus was mouthing something that he couldn't quite make out. Compromising, Harry just shrugged and said, "Personally, I think you're acting like a girl worrying about your looks so much," and headed off to the kitchen, winking at Remus on his way past.

Sirius looked mildly shocked. Remus clapped him on the back. "Well, there's the second opinion you wanted so badly. Let's eat."

* * *

After breakfast, Harry was sprawled across the couch flipping through Quidditch magazines and half-listening to the banter between his godfather and Remus in the next room. The fireplace suddenly roared to life. Giving a startled yelp, Harry tumbled to the ground in a muddle of paper and flailing limbs, banging his elbow on the coffee table. The fireplace lit up for the second time and two voices rang out with laughter at the sight of Harry lying in a heap on the floor.

"Harry!" Sirius and Remus came bursting into the room, wands out, and eyes scanning the room for the danger. When they set eyes on the new arrivals, Sirius let out a bark-like laugh and leant casually against the doorframe.

"Oh, right… Knew there was something I had forgotten. I was supposed to tell you that Ron and Hermione were coming for a visit." Sirius said flippantly.

"Thanks," said Harry dryly as he clambered to his feet.

"You're welcome."

Rolling his eyes, Harry turned to greet his friends and was almost knocked over when Hermione hugged him. "Whoa, Hermione, take it easy. You only saw me a week ago."

She gave him a stern look. "We know better than anyone about your tendency to attract trouble in all forms," she said before moving to greet Remus and Sirius.

"Yeah," agreed Ron as he clapped Harry on the shoulder. "Who knows what horrors you endured in the space of seven entire days?"

"Well, you're right about that. This week has been one death-defying adventure after another," Harry said, feigning a grave demeanor. "Already I've been threatened with poisoning, starvation and fire."

When they blinked at him in shock, he couldn't stop from breaking into a grin. "All from Sirius' cooking abilities if you can believe it."

"Oy!" Sirius protested feebly, "They weren't _that_ bad."

Harry gave him a condescending pat on the shoulder. "Whatever you say, Sirius." In a stage whisper he said to his friends, "Don't eat anything he offers you. It's a health risk."

"You're still alive aren't you? I fail to see what you're complaining about." replied Sirius with a teasing grin. "The dizzy spells and nausea passed after around six days." he joked.

Rolling his eyes, Remus grabbed Sirius' sleeve. "Well, we'll leave you to it. Sirius probably wants to get back to his knitting."

As he was pulled toward the door, the kids distinctly heard Sirius mutter, "Knitting, Remus? Knitting? Seriously? You couldn't think up something the slightest bit more macho?"

"You two seem to be getting along well," Ron commented happily.

"Yeah, we are." Harry grinned contentedly.

"So, how's your summer been so far?" Hermione asked curiously, still smiling at the banter between Harry and his godfather.

"Brilliant," said Harry. "Though it does feel odd to actually be enjoying my summer for once. And Sirius is proving to be a great mother, fussing over the slightest thing."

"I heard that!" Sirius called from the kitchen.

"Good!" Harry returned as he plopped back onto the couch, gesturing for his friends to do likewise. He lowered his voice a tone. "Hopefully he calms down soon, being tackled to the ground every time he thinks he sees or hears an incoming spell from a Death Eater is getting old fast."

"That does sound a bit too overprotective," Hermione said sympathetically, "but you can't really blame him, he's come really close to losing you several times, the most recent time only a few weeks ago. It's just his way of showing he cares. Give him time, he'll settle down."

"I guess," Harry said slowly. He hesitated before admitting, "I was following him around for a week after… I suppose I still do but I didn't really notice since it's only the two of us living here. He hasn't complained about it, so I guess he either hasn't noticed or doesn't mind."

"I did it too," Ron confided. "I would always have to constantly check that Ginny was alright for a month after second year, and then again for Dad when he was hurt. I reckon it's normal."

Glancing at Ron in amazement for showing some small degree of tact, Hermione seemed to forget what she was going to say for a moment. "Oh… well, yes…"

"I'm starving," Ron said suddenly, ruining the moment. "When's lunch?"


	13. All Over Again

_**Chapter 13: All Over Again**_

_The evening was wet and windy; he was gliding across the dead leaves that thickly covered the forest floor, muffling his footsteps and those of his two companions. As they neared their destination, laughter rang out from the little cottage on the hill. He could see them clearly in their sitting room, the tall blonde man and a petite, mousy-haired wife watching as their small daughter ran on shaky legs after a petrified-looking dog. _

_His white hand pulled out the wand beneath his clock and pointed it at the door, which burst open with a loud crash. He was over the threshold as the father came sprinting into the entrance hall, wand at the ready, stopping in his tracks and paling when he caught sight of the intruders._

"_What do you want?"_

_How pitiful he sounded, his voice quivering with fear, such a weakling deserved to die but no… he had given his word, and Lord Voldemort never went back on his word. _

_Without turning, he made a careless motion with his hand and his Death Eaters streamed into the house. One raised her hood and a truly evil smile lit her gaunt face as she raised her wand. "Crucio!"_

_The man immediately collapsed to the floor, twitching and screaming in agony. Other curses followed the first, each voice filled with what most would regard as sickening excitement, but not he. _

_Stepping over the man's thrashing body, he proceeded to the sitting room, only to find it empty. He could hear screaming from a back room. How ignorant of them, thinking to they could escape. No one escaped when he decided to kill them, yet it was mildly amusing to watch their futile attempts. He sauntered through the open doorway into the master bedroom and there he saw her, struggling with a partially opened window._

_He laughed before casting the curse…_

"_Avada Kedavra!"_

_The green light filled the cramped bedroom, it lit the cot pushed up against the wall, it made the dresser glow like an explosion of lighting, and the woman fell like a marionette whose strings had been cut…_

_Retracing his steps to the hallway, he heard the man's screams abruptly cease. Now for the child, he did so dislike leaving loose ends..._

* * *

"No!"

The strangled cry jolted Sirius awake quicker than a bucket of cold water, but had the same effect of chilling him to the bone. For a moment he lay in confusion, blinking his gritty eyes. What was going on?

"NO!"

Harry.

Leaping out of bed, Sirius sprinted into his godson's bedroom, wand drawn. The little light provided by the moon was enough for him to determine that the room was entirely Death Eater free. Yet he soon realized it was not something from the physical world that was causing Harry's distress. Flicking on the light switch and casting one last cautious look around the room, Sirius pocketed his wand and jogged the last few steps to Harry's bed. Sirius shook his shoulder firmly. "Harry," he called. When nothing happened except Harry began to thrash around, his flailing fists barely missing Sirius' face, he spoke louder, "Harry! Harry, it's Sirius!"

He could see the muscles on the sides of Harry's face tighten as he clenched his teeth in obvious pain. He drew his hands to press hard over his forehead. With a thrill of fear, Sirius remembered. Harry's scar. The connection with Voldemort. This must be one of the Voldemort-induced dreams that Harry's scar allowed him to see.

He had never witnessed one of these 'scar dreams' firsthand. He'd only heard about them in passing from Dumbledore and had received a vague one-sentence summary from Harry. He now knew that the versions he'd heard had been watered down – a lot.

"STOP! NO!"

More than a lot.

He'd seemingly heard the version one might tell their 3-year-old sister, or their teetering, decrepit 98-year-old grandmother.

Running a hand through his godson's hair, it was soaked with sweat. "Harry, listen to me! You need to wake up!"

"STOP! PLEASE! STOP!" Harry arched his back and continued to writhe in pain, anguished screams tearing from his throat, and he became caught in convulsions, locked into a realm of pain and horror. Then, so abruptly that Sirius' panic increased tenfold, he went limp.

Sirius shook his shoulder firmly. "Harry!" He was almost yelling in his terror.

Harry began gasping for breath, drawing in great heaving breaths as if he had been held under water past his limit. "Harry!" Sirius said in relief as his godson opened streaming eyes and gripped his arm tightly, the other hand pressed tightly to his forehead.

"All… dead…" he gasped out, sounding exhausted and horrified. "Voldemort… he… killed… them..."

"Okay, try to calm down, Harry. Take a deep breath and hold it for a few seconds before releasing it, then you can tell me what you saw, alright?"

Harry obeyed but the frustration was clear in his eyes. When he could breath normally he recounted his dream at top speed. "… and now he's looking for their daughter – she's only a baby and he's going to kill her, we have to stop him…" He jumped out of bed but collapsed the moment he tried to stand, a moan of pain escaping his lips.

Sirius knelt at his side. "You're hurt? But… how?" he asked in confusion.

"Later, Sirius," Harry said tersely. For the first time, Sirius realized he was shaking. "We have to save her!"

"No, you are in no condition to be going anywhere." Sirius said firmly, as he helped Harry back into bed. "I'll Firecall Dumbledore. You stay put."

As he exited the room, Sirius surreptitiously placed a non-verbal charm on the door and window that would warn him if anyone crossed them. The last thing he needed was any heroics from his godson; a Full-Body Bind seemed a little extreme and he doubted Harry would forgive him if he resorted to that. So, sneakiness was entirely necessary, if not essential to a quiet life.

Sirius reached the living room and crouched down in front of the empty grate, his hands shaking. Sticking his head into the fireplace, he took a large pinch of powder and dropped it on to the logs stacked neatly beneath him. They exploded at once into emerald green flames.

"Dumbledore's Office, Hogwarts!" he said loudly and clearly.

When his head had stopped spinning he opened his eyes to find that he was looking up at the large wooden desk, where Dumbledore sat poring over a piece of parchment.

"Professor?"

Albus Dumbledore looked up calmly, not looking the least bit surprised to see a head in his fireplace at one o'clock in the morning. "Ah, good morning, Sirius. What can I do for you at this early hour?"

Sirius did not have time to feel irritation at the Headmaster's annoyingly calm tone; he doubted Harry would wait for long. He therefore plunged immediately into the story of what Harry had seen in his dream.

When he had finished, the older man didn't speak for a moment. Then Dumbledore said quietly, "I'll contact the Order immediately and we'll look into it. In the meantime, don't let Harry out of your sight."

"Easier said than done," Sirius muttered.

Dumbledore sent him a knowing smile as he stood to leave his office. "Yes, quite so. I'll send word as soon as possible."

"Okay, thanks."

Sirius pulled his head backwards out of the office fire. For a moment his head seemed to be revolving on his shoulders, then he found himself kneeling in front of his living room fire with it firmly back on and watching the emerald flames flicker and die.


	14. Holding On

**Chapter 14: Holding On**

Rising to his feet, Sirius headed for the stairs, taking them two at a time. When he got to Harry's room, he saw his godson hadn't moved since he'd left. His eyes were closed, his body tense and his hands curled into tight fists; he was still trembling and the beginning of a flush was creeping across his face. As Sirius brushed Harry's fringe off his forehead he could feel the heat radiating off him.

"Harry?" Sirius perched on the edge of the bed and waited for Harry to look at him. "Where does it hurt? And for that matter, how _did_ you get hurt?"

"My connection with Voldemort means I can feel the effect of his spells and, through _his_ connection with the Death Eaters, their curses as well." Harry explained wearily.

"What… what spells did they use?"

"Sirius..."

"I know you don't like being fussed over but I need to know if we're going to treat the aftereffects," Sirius said firmly. "You said the Death Eaters tortured the man for a while… did you feel all of the curses?"

"Yes," Harry admitted reluctantly.

Sirius flinched. "Which spells?"

"I can't remember all of them. There were some I'd never heard of…"

"Stop stalling, Harry. Just tell me the ones you recognised."

Harry hesitated before saying in little more than a whisper, "The Cruciatus."

Sirius felt as if the ground had disappeared under him. "Oh, Harry," he breathed.

"I'm okay, Sirius."

Shaking his head, Sirius answered firmly, "No, you're not. You're still shaking, you keep biting your lip against the pain and you're developing a fever. Besides, no one is ever 'okay' after being subjected to the Cruciatus. I'm calling Madam Pomfrey."

"Isn't she on holidays?"

"Yes, but she'll come. She has some familiarity with your visions and won't sell the story to the Daily Prophet. I can't guarantee the same for anyone from St Mungo's."

As Harry nodded tiredly, reluctantly, Sirius pulled out his wand and gave it a wave; an immense silvery four-legged creature erupted from it and streaked off out the window into the darkness.

"Was that a Patronus?" asked Harry, keeping his eyes open with difficulty.

"Yes, it'll go to Pomfrey and speak the message in my voice. It's useful when you don't know a person's exact location; it's much quicker than an owl."

"Right," said Harry vaguely; his eyes fell closed of their own accord.

"Harry? Harry, you should try to stay awake until Madam Pomfrey comes."

Sirius' voice seemed to be coming from a great distance.

"Mmm…"

Harry felt an arm slide under his shoulders and ease him into a sitting position. "Come on, stay awake for a bit longer. Keep talking… what's this I've heard about a troll, a baby dragon and a three-headed dog? Sounds like you've had a busy few years."

"That was all first year," said Harry dimly. He had to hold onto Sirius' shoulder to stay upright; he was grateful that Sirius still had an arm behind him as he was feeling a bit woozy. "And you forgot the oversized bat."

"Bat?"

Harry managed a small smile, "Yeah, Snape."

Sirius chuckled then grew serious. "I would like to assume your second year was a nice, quiet year, but the evidence so far suggests that would be overly optimistic."

"Just a bit," said Harry sheepishly as he tried to keep his head from drooping onto his chest.

"Please tell me you gave the dragons a rest."

"Yeah, I did… at least until fourth year. Second year was an overzealous House Elf, a killer tree, gigantic man-eating spiders, a conceited wand-happy idiot, a Basilisk and a memory of a 16 year old Voldemort… but that was nothing compared to third year. Did you hear about that crazy mass murderer who was after me?"

"Just in passing. Personally, I think the guy is pretty cool."

As Harry opened his mouth to retort, the scar on his forehead burned so badly that he gasped and clapped his hand to it; he suddenly felt dizzy and weak, and would have toppled off the side of the bed if Sirius hadn't grabbed his arms.

"What is it?" asked Sirius, sounding alarmed.

"Scar," Harry mumbled. The pain was steadily worsening.

"It'll pass soon." Sirius replied, not sounding at all convinced.

"I don't… think… so…"

_The room, the gentle night noises, the sound of Sirius' voice were all extinguished. Pain cleaved Harry's head like a sword stroke. He was standing in a dimly lit room, and a semicircle of wizards faced him, and on the floor at his feet knelt a black-robed, quaking figure._

"_I only asked you to do a simple task, Macnair. Surely a man of your… caliber could manage to find and kill a child, a mere infant." His voice was high and cold, but fury burned inside him. To leave this task unfinished was a show of weakness and he, Lord Voldemort, would not be considered weak by anyone. _

"_My lord, we searched the house and yard thoroughly, and my men have combed the woods. She is not there." _

_Macnair was trembling and avoiding his eyes; it brought him a small degree of pleasure to see the strong and resilient man brought so low._

_But he could not have such a weakling under his authority. He must be taught a lesson in strength. Who better to teach it than he? Hadn't he created a reputation that had witches and wizards everywhere so afraid they trembled at the mere mention of his name?_

_His yew wand slashed through the air and the kneeling man fell forward, thrashing around on the floor, screaming high-pitched agonized screams, lost in the unforgiving clutches of pain._

Two hundred miles away, another person was yelling and convulsing in a similar fashion as two figures tried desperately to wake him.


	15. A Precarious Hold

**Chapter 15: A Precarious Hold**

"It's been eight hours and there's still no change," said Sirius anxiously to Madam Pomfrey. "Surely he should have woken up by now."

They stood on the second floor landing outside Harry's door, which they'd left ajar.

"He's exhausted, poor boy. It's not entirely unexpected for him to sleep for so long." The matron looked at him sympathetically. "Although you have to understand, he was under the Cruciatus Curse twice in under half an hour. Both for prolonged amounts of time. If one was performed by You-Know-Who as you said… and so soon after the first… well, there's no guarantee he'll ever completely recover. It is possible that it might have been too much. His mind might be damaged."

The words hit like a crashing fist, knocking the breath out of him. "He can't be…" he whispered.

"I'm sorry, Sirius," she said kindly, "but it's better to be prepared in case he turns out to be insa –"

"No!" Sirius said desperately.

"I've done all I can for now," Madam Pomfrey said softly. "If it's okay with you I might go downstairs for a brief break. Call out if you need me."

"No, not Harry! I've just got him back, I can't lose him again…" He wanted to do something; the inaction and feelings of uselessness were overpowering him. He had to act, had to help Harry.

Remus, who had been standing quietly beside Sirius throughout the conversation, now spoke up, "Sirius, calm down."

Sirius found his voice was shaking, as were his knees. He moved over to the wall and leant against it, trying to master himself.

"She said before that it's more likely he's just exhausted his energy supplies. Sleeping is good for him; he'll probably be awake in another hour demanding you quit mothering him."

Sirius snorted. "After all this, I think I'm entitled to worry. He'll sit there and put up with it."

"I can't see that happening, he's almost as stubborn as you… although it does sound rather entertaining to watch. Can I stay for the show?"

"Remus, this is serious."

His friend shrugged. "It almost made you smile. You're no help to Harry if you don't look after –"

He was cut off by a harsh cry of pain from Harry's room.

* * *

Harry woke up so sore and stiff that he didn't open his eyes, wanting to fall back asleep to escape the discomfort that consciousness brought. The room was dimly lit; he was sure it was morning, which meant he must have been asleep for a while. He could hear voices by his door holding a whispered conversation; they sounded tired and agitated. Snatches of dialogue reached him.

"…eight hours… no change…"

"He's exhausted… have to understand… prolonged… no guarantee… damaged…"

"… better… prepared… insa–"

"No!… no, not Harry!" The voice had a definite note of panic.

_No, not Harry! _The words echoed through his mind. He'd heard that before… but this time the voice saying it was different, a man's voice. He struggled to place it, but his head hurt too much; instead, he contented himself by lying still and listening to the voices.

"… calm down," said a third voice soothingly, "She said… exhausted… demanding…"

"… entitled to… put up with it."

"I can't see… stubborn as you… entertaining to watch…"

"Remus, this is serious."

Sirius.

Harry opened his eyes and tried to sit up. White-hot pain sliced through his body and he fell back, a sharp cry escaping his lips unbidden. He was still trying to catch his breath when his door burst open and two men sprinted in. Sirius perched gingerly on the bed; Remus stood slightly behind him.

"Harry, what day is it?" said Sirius urgently, looking slightly crazed.

Harry blinked, disconcerted by the odd question, not to mention the manner it was posed. The shafts of shooting pain had settled to a dull throb, making it easier to think.

He thought his godfather was off his rocker.

"What day is it?" Sirius repeated anxiously, bordering on hysterically.

Harry stared at his godfather for a moment before switching his gaze to Remus. "So he's finally lost it then? Can't say it comes as a shock."

Perhaps it was the effect of hours of tension, or perhaps Remus genuinely found that statement funny because he roared with laughter. "No, Harry. He's just checking you're… er… not delirious."

Everything clicked into place. "You mean checking that I'm not insane?"

Sirius blanched and shakily attempted to smooth Harry's hair.

"You know that's useless, don't you?" Harry said softly, trying to lighten the mood.

It worked somewhat; Sirius managed a small smile, but the next second his eyes turned concerned. "Are you still in pain? Are you dizzy? Nauseous? Too hot? Too cold? Hungry? Thirsty?" He gripped Harry's arm tightly.

"Sirius, if you start your fussing I'm going to kick you out." Harry said tiredly, effectively dodging all the questions.

"Oh, right… sorry," said Sirius in a tone that could almost be called meek.

Remus sent him a significant look. "He'll sit there and put up with it," he quoted so only Sirius could hear. "Yes, I can see that." Aloud he said, "I'm going downstairs to let everyone know Harry's okay."

Harry groaned. "How many?"

"Just a few," answered Remus evasively. "Dumbledore, Madam Pomfrey and myself.

A crash sounded from the room below.

"Tonks," Sirius supplied helpfully.

Two small explosions shook Harry's bedroom floor in quick succession; they were followed by a startled shriek and a torrent of insults.

Remus flinched. "The twins and Ginny."

"… and Molly," Sirius added as a woman's angry voice drowned out a third explosion.

Hurried footsteps sounded on the staircase; two voices were holding a whispered argument that grew clearer as they approached.

"And Hermione and Ron," finished Remus as two sets of eyes peeked nervously around the door.

Sirius chuckled. "You can come in, he's awake and already complaining. I'd say that's a good sign."

Hermione pushed open the door and entered, Ron right on her heels. Both of them looked pale and drawn.

"Harry, are you okay?" Hermione asked anxiously. "Sirius, he is okay, isn't he? Oh, he's just got to be, I could hardly stand it if he was – but that just couldn't happen, it's too horrible. Shouldn't Madam Pomfrey be up here?" she fretted.

"Yes, yes and no," Harry said quietly, smiling at them wearily.

Sirius frowned as he recalled the presence of the matron downstairs. "Yeah, she should…"

"I'll go," Remus offered, remembering his original plan.

"Sirius…"

"No, Harry, don't protest. She _will _come up here and make sure you really are okay. I don't really trust your own assessment of –"

"Sirius," said Harry again.

"Not listening. Now, as i was saying –"

Rolling his eyes, Harry tugged at his arm. "I wasn't against her coming up, it's just… you're squeezing my arm too tight. I really don't want it to drop off from having no circulation. How'd you explain _that_ to Madam Pomfrey?"

"Sorry," said Sirius, letting go of Harry's arm as if it were scalding hot. Once again he was looking at Harry as if the slightest movement would send him plunging into the realms of death. It was a bit annoying.

"You know, I'm sort of hungry," Harry said slowly. "I reckon I could manage some soup."

His godfather jumped up so fast he knocked into Hedwig's cage. She let out a loud squawk and ground her beak in annoyance. "Oops, sorry, Hedwig." he apologized, trying to straighten the cage while she nipped at him through the bars. "I'll be right back," he promised, darting out the door.

"Take your time," Harry called out huskily. To Ron he said jokingly, "Quick, go down there and nick his wand so he has to make it by hand. When he comes back he might have calmed down a bit."

Ron managed a nervous laugh. "He could give Mum real competition!"


	16. One Step at a Time

**Chapter 16:**** One Step at a Time**

However much Harry complained to Ron and Hermione about it, he couldn't help but enjoy the feeling of having someone so intent on looking after him. He, Harry Potter, the Dursleys' slave, Dudley's punching bag and alleged delinquent of Little Whinging actually had someone who gave a fig about him.

In stark contrast to the Dursleys, Sirius had been taking Harry's care very seriously, ensuring he got enough rest, or keeping him occupied by bringing in the chessboard or dropping by to talk. He made a point of checking on Harry every few hours; it was on one such occasion that he found his stubborn godson in the process of coming downstairs.

"What are you doing out of bed?"

At the sound of his godfather's worried voice, Harry glanced up guiltily from where he sat partway down the stairs, slumped wearily against the banister. He had begun his descent ten minutes before but had been forced to stop and rest when his legs threatened to give out halfway down.

Sirius stepped up to Harry and started helping him up. "Come on, let's get you back upstairs."

"Can't I come downstairs for a bit?" Harry asked as he shakily got to his feet.

"You're supposed to be resting," said Sirius doubtfully, pulling Harry's arm around his neck.

"I can rest downstairs just as well," Harry reasoned. "I was hoping for a change of scenery. I've been up here for three days."

"Are you sure you're up to it?" Sirius asked, eyeing him critically as he swayed slightly on his feet. "You can wait another week or two."

"In another week I'd have gone stir crazy."

Sirius gave in. "Alright, just for a few hours."

"Thanks." They began walking downstairs slowly. "Is Remus still here?" Harry asked. "I thought I heard his voice before."

"Yeah, he and Tonks have been helping with the kids. I daresay Molly will hear about it soon, then she'll be here too."

"Kids?"

"Oh, right, I haven't told you yet. Sorry, you were sleeping when I heard. Yesterday the Order found the baby the Death Eaters were looking for. We've kept her here because our wards are so strong."

Harry frowned. "You said _kids._"

"I'm getting to that. The couple had _two_ children. Before Voldemort cornered her, the mother managed to Disillusion the girls and get them out through the window. The older girl carried the baby and hid in the woods near their house. Tonks literally stumbled upon them."

"Are they alright?"

"Physically speaking, yes, although obviously still upset about the attack. They've both been unnaturally quiet."

Harry was relieved when they reached the living room; the short walk had cost him a surprising amount of energy and he was anxious to rest. Sirius led him to one of the pillow-covered couches and summoned a light blanket from the upstairs cupboard.

"You hungry? I think lunch is almost ready."

"Starving," said Harry around a shuddering yawn.

"Excellent," Sirius beamed. "No, no, stay there. I'll bring it in here," he added hastily as Harry made to get up. "You look done in."

Harry must have fallen asleep because the next thing he knew, he was blinking up at an unfamiliar face that was inches from his own. He quickly scrambled back as far as the couch would allow. Feeling around for his glasses, he put them on, bringing a child's somber face into focus. She was obviously the older girl Sirius had mentioned; she looked remarkably similar to her mother, with the same wavy nut-brown hair and slight build. Her hazel eyes too, were hauntingly familiar to those Harry had seen wild with fear. The girl couldn't be any older than six or seven.

"Er, hello," he said awkwardly.

She didn't reply, but continued to stare at him as though he had two heads, which would be quite odd, even in the Wizarding world.

He tried again. "What's your name? I'm Harry."

No response. Her expressionless face was slightly unnerving.

Harry suddenly noticed a plate of sandwiches on the table beside him. His stomach complained loudly, reminding him he'd missed lunch. He grabbed a sandwich and began eating, watched all the while by the brown-haired girl.

"Have you had lunch yet?" he asked.

Silence.

"If you're hungry you can have a sandwich. They're really good," he said, holding out the plate to her.

Her eyes finally left his face to glance at the food as she timidly reached out to take half a sandwich. Her eyes snapped back to him as she chewed slowly.

"Do you want any pillows?" Harry asked, grabbing a few off the other couch. "Sirius conjured them. You've got lots of colours to choose from. Which do you want?"

She pointed to the purple, and when Harry handed it to her, she hugged it to herself and perched tentatively on the couch. Once the first sandwich was gone, she stared at the plate hungrily.

"D'you want any more?"

Once again her big brown eyes bore into him. Slowly, she edged closer, extending her arm to take the offering.

"You know, we've got a river in the front yard," Harry told her as she ate. "You can see it if you look out that window. Right there, see?"

She clambered onto the couch beside him, standing up to peer over the top. The ghost of smile appeared on her strained face as she gazed at the tranquil stream that snaked through the broad meadow and veered off into the forest.

"If you want we can go outside and see it, but not until tomorrow."

She looked crestfallen.

Harry laughed. "We can't go now, it's raining."

"So?" her expression clearly said.

"If we wait until tomorrow, the puddles will be bigger," Harry reminded.

That seemed to do the trick, because she smiled shyly and shuffled a bit closer to him, nibbling on the last pieces of her sandwich.

"How are you doing that?"

Turning toward the voice, Harry saw Sirius and Remus standing in the doorway watching the interaction.

"Doing what?"

"Getting her to eat."

Harry shrugged. "I just asked her. Why?"

"We've been trying to get her to eat something since she got here yesterday morning," Remus told him.

Harry glanced at the girl as she scooted closer again, wide eyes still fixated on him as though he held all the answers in the universe.

"She won't talk. Is she okay?"

"It's not entirely unexpected owing what she's been through," said Remus. "Just be patient, keep talking to her and she'll gradually come out of it."

"She seems to have taken a liking to you," Sirius commented, plonking gracelessly onto the opposite couch.

"Gently, you bonehead!' it shouted crossly. "Why must I put up with _you_ all the time? Mort always gets the little one. How is that fair?"

"Quit your whining, Ralph," snapped the couch Harry was on. "You think you've got the raw end of the deal, you should try having a sack of bones digging into your upholstery!"

Harry bristled. He wasn't _that_ thin.

Sirius gave a long-suffering sigh and leaned back. "Moony, you really need to get yourself a hobby. You've got too much time on your hands."

"I didn't charm them," Remus protested. "It was your cousin!"

"Course it was," replied Sirius with a roll of his eyes.

"No, really. Tonks asked me to teach her."

Sirius grinned in a conspiring way. "Been spending quality time together have you?"

"What are you – ?"

"Well, I've finally got the baby to sleep," announced Tonks tiredly as she walked into the room and collapsed onto a beanbag. "Wotcher, Harry. How are you feeling?"

"Much better thanks," said Harry. "I was planning on going flying later this afternoon so I could try some stunts."

"Flying? Stunts?" Sirius looked stressed at the very thought.

The others laughed.

"He's teasing you, Sirius," Remus informed him with a grin. "Go easy on him, Harry. He's liable to have a heart attack."

"I'm perfectly calm, thank you," Sirius said with dignity.

Remus nodded sagely. "That would explain why your hands are shaking."

"They are not," insisted Sirius, sneaking a look just in case.

As the two continued to bicker, Harry suddenly became aware of a small weight against his side. Looking down, he was surprised to see the silent girl curled up beside him, sleeping peacefully.


End file.
